


Equitation

by FoxDragon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: A farrier is kinda a blacksmith, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Bilbo Baggins, F/M, Freeform, Horses, I swear, It makes sense, M/M, Okay no it doesnt, Other, Past Domestic Abuse, Thorin is a farrier, discussion of domestic violence, if your squeemish about things like blood and bodily fluids, may be a bit squicky at times, show jumping, sorta crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2622977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxDragon/pseuds/FoxDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Richards family has been a big name in international show jumping for generations. Bilbo Baggins grew up riding with Nori Richards in the young rider’s division and now rides and trains full time at Brandywine River Stables, the Richard’s venerable estate. Dori was born with a few of the wrong bits but now that her overly judgmental mother and emotionally abusive step-father are dead from a car crash and a truly amazing plastic surgeon has helped her express her inner reality, outwardly, she is really much, much happier. Thorin is the farrier who takes up the challenge of caring for the feet of several millions of dollars’ worth of top level competition horses. Dwalin is recently discharged honorably from military service battling PTSD and looking for work that won’t give him unbearable migraines and terrifying flashbacks.</p><p>Ori, Fili and Kili are all incredibly cute kids between the ages of 6 and 10.</p><p>This is a set of interrelated one-shots and small multi-chapter bits that isn’t a properly linear fic but is…. Something.</p><p>And at the end of the day it’s still about the guys (and gals) but mostly it’s about the horses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Fami-er... Farrier. Bilbo POV

**Author's Note:**

> A bar is probably not the best place to decide to actually start posting this. But oh well. This is a collection of stories and ficlet's based around the equestrian world. FYI - I have spent my life around horses but I am not a 5 star jumper, so I may have some jumping-related details wrong.
> 
> And I'm writing this because it's fun for me. So it may be odd and completely random at times.
> 
> And this is coming to you direct with no beta. Sometimes alcohol or sleep deprivation may be involved.
> 
> So I expect strange and senseless mistakes.

Autumn was Bilbo’s favorite time of the year.

There was a certain feeling of peace and stillness as gold and scarlet leaves drifted slowly from their lofty perches toward the rich green grass below.

The air was cool and crisp, it bit at rosy cheeks and sent breath steaming in thick puffs of mist as the cool air allowed one to push harder, further and longer than the warm summer breezes.

There had been just enough rain to leave the once parched pathways through the trees springy and fresh, but not yet enough to turn them to a sloppy mess.

Really, this time of year was absolutely perfect in every way.

He grinned as the end of the tree line came into view, just round the bend in the path and in moments there was warm autumn sunshine on his skin. Across the field ahead of him, sending up clouds of dust from the long gravel drive, a dark blue pickup was bouncing its unhurried way up toward the low slung barns.

So. The new farrier was here. He grinned and black-tipped gunmetal-grey ears flicked back as Sting gave him his full attention, feeling the slight shift in weight from his rider’s change of focus. A bit more contact on the reigns as he closed his calves against the young stallions sides and together they left the trees in their wake, Sting’s stride lengthening just a bit from a relaxed gallop to the anticipation of the next jump.

The track to the last log on the hacking-run brought them alongside the drive, quickly closing the gap on the truck and then surging past with the bare impression of young faces pressed to the passenger side window before Bilbo’s attention became a laser-focus on the trampled dirt ahead and past the log. The jump itself wasn’t tall, barely two feet with the top six inches stiff brush, but Sting was young, just passing six and a half, and not really a dedicated cross country horse, and the hacking trail was long enough that his endurance was hitting its end.

That was the whole point after all, to get out of the arena for a while, while building strength, stamina and focus on jumps much smaller than the horse normally saw, but at greater speed and over varied terrain. And it was just plain fun, for both animal and rider.

Five strides.

He had picked his take-off point and knew the timing in his bones, his sight was aimed at the cheery green barn door little more than a quarter of a mile away up the road and past Dori’s house.

Four strides.

Sting was just a bit behind where Bilbo wanted him, distracted by the sound of the truck behind them and probably also the glare of the sun reflecting off a duck pond closer to the trees. He gave the stallion a firm tap on the shoulder with his crop and asked him to dig in.

Three strides.

Sting was young but he was a Good Horse, digging in and stretching out, reaching just that little bit more even as he started to come light in the forehand.

Two strides.

It wasn’t quite enough, they would come in short of the best spot, but not as bad as it could have been. He closed his heels against Sting and relaxed through his hips and knees, opening his seat to let the horse come up under him.

One stride.

A breath. 

A moment.

Stillness.

The perfection of flight.

There was a slight stumble as they landed, Sting having jumped long and more than a bit high, but they were clear and away and he let the reigns slip through his fingers as the horse took the contact down and long, relaxing and slowing to a smooth canter up the field toward the barn. He dropped back to a long-strided trot as they rounded the back of the main outdoor arena, Sting stretching his neck and shaking his head as the white frothed foam on his shoulders and chest steamed in the crisp air.

He directed the large warmblood to the smaller of the two covered arena’s, slowing to a walk as he settled him into the main track along the railing. Ori soon appeared, stumbling over the straps of the heavy wool cooler that. Bundled up haphazardly, was almost as big as he was. Still, the kid was determined as he climbed up onto the raised platform along the wall the arena shared with the barn, the best place for someone to sit and watch a ride, and equipped with a propane heater that kept it fairly comfortable even in the dead of winter.

“How was he?” the 6 yr old asked excitedly, he loved the horses and always asked how they were doing, parroting the questions he heard his brother’s asking each other after a ride even if he didn’t fully understand the answers. 

Bilbo grinned as he patted the horse’s steaming neck. “He was lovely, he really is coming along very well and should be right on track for the circuit next spring.” He answered proudly. Stingray Castle BRS was one of the first horses he had personally produced, breeding his first GP mount, a fairly temperamental mare by the simple name of Lobelia to a Canadian stallion with multiple Nations Cups, two WEGs and an Olympic Team Silver on his record.

Of course, simply having talented, champion breeding wasn’t always enough and the first few years of his life had been a bit of a nail biter, he showed promise, was well built, even tempered (despite his dam’s disposition) willing, and most of all, athletic. But Bilbo was a firm believer in starting slow, and hadn’t turned the horse to jumps until he was nearly 5, so there was really no way to guess how much the horse would _like_ jumping, or how hard he would try.

It was as much luck as it was breeding that the dark dapple grey loved to jump, and gave every jump his all. Bilbo could just tell that he would go far, that he would be a grand prix horse for sure, if he would have the scope and talent to be a nations cup horse was yet to be seen, but he had at least four more years of developing before that would become any sort of imaginable goal. For now Bilbo was just happy that he was sound, personable and willing.

He lapped the arena several times at a slow swinging walk, occasionally asking the horse to flex his neck from one side to the other, or to yield his shoulders or hindquarters as they walked, cooling down slowly and loosening up. When Sting’s breathing had finally slowed to reasonable rate he stopped in front of the viewing platform and swung out of the saddle, dropping to the ground in a smooth, practiced move and running up his stirrups and loosening the girth as Ori clambered down into the arena with the cooler.

Swinging the thick fabric onto Sting’s still wet back over the top of the saddle he glanced down at his little ‘helper’. ”Hey Ori, is Hamfast around?”

Ori pouted. “I can walk him! I’m big enough! And he won’t step on me, will you Sting” he asked the last to the horse as he reached up to pat his velvety black muzzle and Sting, in return, bumped his nose forward, nearly pushing him off his feet.

Bilbo just chuckled “Ori, you’re entire body is about the size of his _head_. Sure he would never hurt you on purpose but it would be very easy for him to step on you accidently, especially if something surprised him, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. Besides, he still has his ‘baby’ moments so please, go see if Hamfast can take him for me?” The kid pouted again but really, there was no in heck that Bilbo was going to hand off a 1200 pound six year old _stallion_ to a kid, and Ori knew it. He was allowed to walk the older geldings, and some of the mares that lived across the river on the far other side of the property, and of course he could lead, ride and play with his own horse, an occasionally narcoleptic seventeen year old POA that had taught both Dori and Nori how to ride and by this point had more patience than Bilbo had ever seen in a pony. But ALL of the stallions were always off limits, as were any of the younger horses, and Ori darn well knew it so he gave up soon enough and disappeared into the stables to find their head groom.

Bilbo hand walked Sting around the arena for the few minutes it took Ori to return with Hamfast in tow, and handed him off to the aging handler, herding Ori ahead of him toward the main barn aisle. “Have you met the new shoer yet? I saw him coming up the drive earlier and I could be wrong but I think he had a couple kids with him, you should go introduce yourself.”

Ori gave him a big eyed look. “Really? Are you gunna come and talk to him too?”

He chuckled. “Maybe in a bit, after I get a bit cleaned up and changed. You go on ahead and stay out of trouble!” He gave him a light push in the direction of the outside grooming rack as he turned toward the laundry/bathroom, grinning as the boy took his advice, walking quickly through the near empty barn.

He was humming lightly to himself as he finished washing his hands up to the elbow’s and splashing clear water on his face to rinse away his own sweat. He had already pulled off his tall boots before stepping into the small bathroom adjacent to the laundry so when he finished he stripped off his dirty shirt, leaving him in only thin breeches and tall socks as he returned to the laundry, tossing the shirt in the proper bin.

Once his socks had been peeled off he started pulling the clean laundry he had shoved in the dryer before his ride out, dumping everything except a worn t-shirt and faded jeans into his clean clothes basket. Dori had offered more than once to buy him a new laundry set but he preferred the one in the barn, with its big clear windows and comforting distance from his living space. It wasn’t strictly rational, but as his therapist kept telling him phobia’s weren’t rational.

With all the laundry out of the dryer, he pulled off his breeches, shivering just a bit in the cool air, and started to work his way into his second favorite pair of jeans. The door to the laundry opened as he stepped into them and he paid it no mind, Dori loved to gossip and no doubt as soon as Ori told her he was done riding she had made a beeline to where she knew he would be, probably just bursting to tell him every possible detail about the new farrier. 

There was the sound of someone stopping abruptly and an unknown male voice. “Oh! Jeeze, sorry! In sorry! Should have knocked but she said the bathroom was after the laundry and .. oh jeeze sorry!”

He froze with the jeans around his knees, bent over with his ass in the air, and turned his head slowly. There was a man he didn’t know, turned round in the doorway so he has now facing away, hand firmly over his eyes.

For a moment Bilbo really did not know what to do, the man was big, broad shouldered and easily a full head taller than him. There was no doubt this was the new farrier, and he was handsome. Very handsome. 

He had never been good around handsome men, he knew well enough that he was nothing special, short and a bit chubby around the middle with a horse obsession that most people found very… odd. His recent success on the circuit had lent him some popularity, especially with women, but most men he met in the horse world were straight, and married, and not interested in pale, short show jumpers with a bit too much padding around the middle. 

He forced himself to calmly stand, pulling up his jeans and settling them on thin hips. Buttoning up the fly he crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to exude an air of calm confidence. If you can’t make it, fake it.

“I would ask if you were scared of the sight of a naked man, but unless you don’t own any mirrors I’m sure you’ve seen it all before.” That…. Probably would have come off better if his voice hadn’t been so shaky.

The man didn’t turn, but he did seem to relax. “It’s not a question of fear, it’s about being polite.”

Oh.

Right. 

Yeah.

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat a bit and he busied himself with his shirt instead, turning his back to the stranger.

“Well… in that case thank you, but I promise it’s safe now. Shirt and everything.” Well, he was still barefoot but.. eh. Details. “I assume you’re the new farrier that Thrain recommended?” the aging shoer had been wonderfully generous in taking on their entire barn despite already having a full schedule and hopes to start retiring soon while they searched for a local farrier with the skill to take on the challenge of so many horses, and the space in their schedule to do so as well. 

“Yes, I’m actually his son, Thorin. I was working down in Florida for a while, did a lot of shows and stuff, but I wanted to come back home, be closer to the family. He told me you guys needed someone good and there were a few of his other clients that were willing to switch as well so he doesn’t have to work so much anymore and it just worked out. Or, I’m hoping it will work out, if you folks like my work that it.”

Bilbo looked at him then, long dark hair down past his broad shoulders, he was tall and thick everywhere and he swallowed. Yea… he definitely had a type but… no. No he had made that mistake once before and look how that had turned out. And besides, yes he was riding and competing again, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to get back in THAT saddle. And anyways, what were the chances that Dori’s new shoer was gay?

He managed a small smile at the man as he slipped his bare feet into a pair of worn sneakers. “Well it’s nice to meet you but I have some things to get done.” He motioned at the door set to the side of the laundry machines “That door is the bathroom, and don’t worry, it’s empty.”

With that he slipped past the other man, grabbing a worn hoodie from the blanket rack and headed out of the barn toward the main house where he lived in a room above the garage telling himself that that had been good, he had done well with that situation and he was absolutely not running away. 

He was totally running away. He wanted to crawl into his bed and curl up in a ball and just hide.


	2. The Hoof Makes the Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is out of order, there will be a Thorin's POV version of CH1 at some point, but I don't have it done yet.

Thorin groaned as his phone rang down the hall and rolled over in bed, glaring at the face of his clock. 6:12 AM. He drug his pillow over his head. Whoever it was could wait until a reasonable time.

He was not going to answer the phone.

It could be an emergency.

He had a special ring tone for family, and that was his generic ring.

It probably wasn’t an emergency.

It could be an emergency.

A horse could have stepped on something.

6am was the right time for most barns to be feeding breakfast and discovering if a horse tried to kill themselves overnight.

Shit it was probably an emergency.

He heaved himself out of bed and stumbled down the hall, shivering at the cold. This apartment’s insulation was crap. The phone had stopped ringing, but displayed a missed call, unknown number. 

Before he could dial back the number the phone buzzed again and the New Message icon lit up. 

Alright then. 

He clicked the message.

 _Hi, I’m calling from Brandywine Stable,”_ Shit. _I just wanted to let you know, one of the boys, Terry, has pulled up this morning, he’s off on the right fore, no heat but he does have a pulse so I’m pretty sure it’s an abscess. He was totally fine yesterday so it’s probably deep or new and I was hoping you might some time to swing by today and dig it out?”_ The caller left the barn number and his own cell phone number, asking if Thorin could text him to let him know either way if he could or couldn’t make it.

Flipping through his appointment book he checked the next visit he had scheduled for Brandywine, Terry was on his list to be trimmed and re-shod in just over a week and a half so he hadn’t handled the horse yet at all. Checking another page he verified that yes, his first appointment of the day wasn’t until 9, if he hit the early drive through for a gut-bomb breakfast, he could manage it. An abscess wasn’t a huge emergency but the quicker it was dug out, the faster it would heal. And if the problem wasn’t an abscess or something else he could fix the vet would need to be called as soon as possible.

Tapping out a quick message to the personal number the caller had left to let the man know he was coming, he stumbled back to the bedroom to get dressed.

His phone buzzed with a reply as he poured fresh coffee into his thermos. _Great, see you soon. No bute yet._

He nodded to himself as he read the message, bute would make the horse more comfortable but could mask it’s reactions and make the problem harder to find, and loaded up what he would need for the day into his truck. 

The clock on the dashboard glowed a cheery 6:34 am as he rolled out of the apartment complex parking lot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun was just beginning to cast weak light over the barn complex as he rolled up the gravel drive to the main barn. The lights were on in the stables but not the house, so it was unlikely that the person who called him had awoken Ms. Dori yet. Most likely it had been the barn manager, Beorn, a man he had not yet met who had called him. 

His breath made thick white plumes in the cold air as he buckled on his farriers apron and slid a hoof knife, a pair of testers and a heavy file into the loops. Inside the barn was significantly warmer than outside, full of the smells of fresh hay, warm bran and the unique tang of horses. It was a clean and comforting smell, entirely unlike the aroma of cow pastures and for a moment he savored the quiet of the horses nosing through their breakfasts.

Starting down the barn aisle he spotted a very large man with a stack of bucket moving from stall to stall, dumping grain into feeders. The man greeted him with a wide smile.

“You must be Thror’s son, the new farrier. I’m Beorn, barn manager here.”

His handshake was firm.

“I am, was it you that called me this morning?”

The other man shook his head. “No that wasn’t me.” He was looking over Thorin’s shoulder at something, or someone, so he turned, wondering what.

The man from last week was stepping out of one of the stalls he had passed, a wry grin on his face.

“That was me actually, and I promise to keep my pants on this time.

Dumping a small bucket of feed into the nearest stall, Beorn chuckled. Apparently the story had spread.

Thorin offered the other man his hand. “I think that would be for the best. Sorry I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself earlier. Thorin Durin.

The man took his hand. He was wearing worn riding gloves against the cold, and his grip was surprisingly firm despite his small frame. “Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

Thorin blinked. “Wait. Bilbo Baggins? _The_ Bilbo Baggins? As in Trebuchet?”

He blushed a bit, a light dusting of pink across pale cheeks that was oh so fetching. “You follow the circuit then, I take it?”

He shrugged “Not particularly, but I spent most of the last couple of years in Wellington, I worked a lot of the shows during the winter season down there. Saw you ride a few times.” He coughed into a fist. “You’re um, a bit shorter than I would have expected.”

Bilbo chuckled with a small sigh. “Yea, I get that a lot. It’s easy to look taller on a horse. Anyways, Terry is over here.” He gestured at the stall he had just come out of where a tall dark bay horse was nosing the window between hi stall and his neighbor’s, clearly wondering where his grain was as he had so far only been given hay. “He likes to meet fans, especially if they have carrots. But he is also a total wimp so he may not like you at first.”

“Since I’m going to poke him where it hurts, right?” he looked the horse over. He was big, and the thick stable rug did little to hide the power of his frame. He swung his big head around to look at them a Bilbo unlatched the stall door and he realized he recognized that face with his delicate, dishy profile. “Wait, Terry… Trebuchet?”

Bilbo nodded as he buckled a halter around the animal’s head. “Just caught that?”

He reached out to give the horses’ soft nose a rub, letting the animal smell his hand and getting a firm nudge in reward. “Well, not exactly done up for a show now is he?” he grinned and ruffled the stallions long hay flecked forelock. “So how off is he? I assume you’re pretty sure what foot it is?”

Bilbo nodded. “Yea, they look a lot different with a winter coat. It’s the right front. He has a bit of a history with that foot, the heel is a bit narrow and he can be a bit abscess prone on it.”

Nodding again Thorin gave Terry one last pat on the neck and ran his hand down the indicated leg, the horse picking up his foot obediently. Pulling the shoe took only a few seconds and then he carefully started to search with the testers. Sure enough, it took only a slight pressure near the heel to have Terry almost falling foreword as he pulled suddenly, forcing Thorin to let go of the foot and step away lest he be crushed by a sudden lapful of warmblood. 

Bilbo pulled Terry’s massive head up, bracing against him with both hands as he tried to settle the horse. “I told you he was a wimp.” He commented with a small chuckle.

Dusting off his knee’s and stepping back up to the horse’s shoulder Thorin gave a wry chuckle. “Yea well, you weren’t kidding were you.”

Terry was far more reluctant to lift his foot the second time but with a bit of coaxing Thorin managed it, and using jut his thumbs he was able to hone in on the most tender part of the foot, pinching tightly with his knee’s to prevent Terry from being successful at pulling his foot away. Once he knew where the abscess most likely was he pulled out the hoof knife and began to dig carefully until he found the pocket of bloody pus causing the problem.

Once he managed to get the abscess open he used his thumbs to coax as much of the infection out as he could then carefully released the foot. Already Terry seemed more comfortable, nosing at his back curiously as he straightened out and gave his neck a scratch.

Turning to Bilbo he slid the hoof knife back into his pocket. “So I assume you know the deal? Hot Epsom soak for 20 minutes, two to four times a day, keep it wrapped and I will tack the shoe back on in three or four days, once he is all happy about that foot again?”

Bilbo nodded, offering the big horse a treat from his pocket as he unbuckled the halter. “Yep, we are firm believers in baby-diaper and duct tape boots around here. And Mr. Sissy-pants here will be getting a bute-chaser in his morning grain today.” He said, giving Terry an affectionate squeeze of the nose.

Thorin watched him, deciding to go for it. “So I’m sure you get this all the time but… can I buy you a coffee or something sometime?” 

Bilbo seemed to freeze, looking rather surprised. He was just accepting the silence for a no when the smaller man blushed and stammered “Um… I guess… I mean…. Yes. You may. But um… I’m kinda busy the next couple days?”

He grinned. “Well, my schedule is pretty full the next couple days as well, how does Tuesday look for you?”

Bilbo gave him a grin, looking more certain of himself now. “Yea, yea Tuesday should be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Equitation references  
> I have a very distinct image of each of the horses mentioned in this fic, and many of them are based on real horses, living or dead.
> 
> My mental image of Sting as a 6yr old -http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=dark+dapple+grey+warmblood&qpvt=dark+dapple+grey+warmblood&FORM=IGRE#view=detail&id=35812BFD3CC58F9B1DB877FF849B850A8AA5E14C&selectedIndex=0
> 
> Of course, grey horses fade as they get older so in a few years he will look more like the lovely Winningmood - http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=winningmood&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=winningmood&sc=8-10&sp=-1&sk=#view=detail&id=E2A5CC1C9BB50FCFB5CD9DCA82447EE32A8BA1FF&selectedIndex=36
> 
> My inspiration for Trebuchet is the amazing, indomitable H&M Tornesch  
> http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=H%26M%20Tornesch&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=h%26m%20tornesch&sc=1-12&sp=-1&sk=#view=detail&id=A76308DA224C231CCBAD6AFBC235AC84A25B2F99&selectedIndex=65


	3. Meet The Fami-er Farrier. Thorin POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 from Thorin's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once again this is coming to you without a beta, or being read over by anyone and ... yea. Probably has errors. Sorry about that.

“There it is! There it is! Don’t miss the turn!!!”

One hand on the wheel, Thorin Durinson reached blindly across the truck’s cab and grabbed the back of his youngest nephew’s shirt, pulling him back and down firmly. ”Kili! How many times do I have to tell you! Sit down and stop taking off your seatbelt! Fili can you please-“

“I’ve got it.” The blond twisted in the passenger side seat to strap his little brother back down. “Seriously Kee, if Uncle drives into a tree or something you’re going to die!”

“I am not going to miss the turn, OR drive us into a tree.” He grumbled, slowing to turn off the country road that was barely two lanes, down a well-kept gravel drive labeled with a very tasteful green and gold sign that read simply Brandywine River Stables.

Bad enough that his father insisted he take on the Brandywine horses, a full herd of competition and breeding horses of all ages and stages of life, and each of them probably worth at least what he could make in a year, most likely more. No if that wasn’t intimidating enough his sister had to have some last minute work… thing, really he hadn’t been listening to her explanation, and of course Frerin was busy and their parents were already out of town so he HAD to take the boys with him. Shoeing horses he had never handled before while keeping track of both of his nephews was not likely to make for an easy afternoon.

Thick tree’s bordered the gravel drive, hiding the main property from view of the road until the drive turned sharply and revealed rolling fields, white fences, distantly a very large cream and white house and a large complex of creamy gold barns and arenas with green trim and doors. The long drive wound through a wide open area dotted at seemingly random locations with obstacles. He could see a wide tabletop, narrow hedges, at least one duck pond with what looked like a wooden fish in the center and fallen log jumps of various sizes. Odd, he thought, Brandywine produced show jumpers, not eventing horses… but maybe he was wrong? Or the jumps were for cross training, a bit of change to keep the horses fresh and interested.

He was distracted from his musing by Kili pushing to stand up once more, twisting in his seat to look behind them as he shouted eagerly “Look, Look! Horse!!!”

He wanted to roll his eyes. Kili had eagerly pointed out every single horse visible during the drive. And a couple of alpaca’s.

“Kili, we are at a stable, there will be a lot of horses here…” He sighed, twisting the wheel to avoid a pothole.

“But this one is really cool!” He was leaning across Fili’s lap now and his brother was looking out the window as well. 

Motion caught his eye and he glanced up at the rearview mirror only to twist to look behind them as well. A horse and rider were galloping up behind them in the field alongside the drive, closing the gap quickly. The horse was grey, and judging by how dark his coat was, fairly young as well. Its rider held a steady half-seat, seeming to float motionless above the steadily rocking animal.

He quickly turned his eyes back to the road and seconds later the pair was past them, his nephews pressing eager faces close to the window in awe. Neither Frerin nor Dis had ever been big fans of horses, and today would likely be the closest the boys had ever been to the animals that their grandfather and other uncle had based their lives and livelihoods on. 

He glanced over again as the rider continued on past them, lining up for the middle effort of multilevel log jump. The horse took the log effortlessly, clearing the brush along the top with easily a foot to spare and Thorin reconsidered. These animals were probably worth a minimum of at least twice what he could make in a year. 

And he was about to (maybe) become responsible for the very foundation of their lives. One wrong choice, a slightly tipped heel or uneven angle and he could ruin thousands of dollars’ worth of athletic potential. God, why had he let his dad talk him into this? 

He didn’t even realize he was staring after the rider until the truck started to list off the side of the gravel road into the grass and he quickly corrected. Fili was staring at him with an unimpressed look. “Hey uncle Thorin.”

“Hm?”

“You could at least wipe the drool off your chin.”

He glared halfheartedly while Kili cackled. “Oh shut up.”

“No, seriously, it’s gross.”

“You’re nine, what do you even know?”

“I know that it’s gross.”

“Ya, it’s super gross!”

“Kili, you don’t even know what we are talking about!”

“You’re talking about you staring at that guy’s butt!”

Thorin fought the urge to thump his head on the steering wheel. “Exactly what has your other uncle been telling you two?”

Fili snorted. “You like guys, there’s nothing wrong with that but having you drooling over some guy’s ass is kinda embarrassing so just.. y’know, play it cool.”

“Play it cool? Seriously. You two are not allowed to be alone with Frerin ever again.” He slowed as he pulled the truck up to the front of the barn. “And we are not discussing this right now. At all. So shut it. And behave yourselves! No running or screaming or anything crazy like that. Horses get spooked easy and these horses aren’t used to having kids running around.”

The boys piled out of the truck before it was even fully stopped, already pointing things out to each other, as a dignified looking woman with generous curves and carefully coifed silver hair approached.

He met her with a handshake, reconsidering his initial assessment of her age, her hair was silver but her face was fresh and young and graceful. “Hello, you must be Thorin. I’m Dori, it’s a pleasure.” Her grip was warm and firmer than he had expected.

Introducing himself and the boys she gave him a quick tour of the facility, pointing out the road that led off over the river to a second set of barn where the fillies, mares and babies lived, far enough away from the stallions to not be a distraction but still on the same property. Fili and Kili immediately wanted to see the babies but Dori just laughed as she explained to them that there weren’t any at the moment. 

It was late enough in the year that that year’s foal crop had already been weaned and they had sold the three babies produced that year already. The mares were pregnant at the moment, but there was nothing all that special about them at the moment. They really just looked like horses that were kinds fat, she explained. But later as they got closer to foaling the boys could certainly come out and feel the babies move sometime. She grinned at their wide eyed looks as she described how you could _see_ the foals move sometimes, the mare’s belly bulging from side to side as the baby within them shifted.

She then earned herself the distinction of Thorin’s new favorite person as she pointed both boys to a nearby paddock where an aged POA lived with a miniature donkey and four goats, two of the goats pygmy’s, and invited the boys to go play with the animals.

The boy’s thoroughly distracted he was finally able to get to work, Dori kind enough to show him where he could set up at an outdoor grooming shed with cross ties located so he could pull his ruck right up to the side and have his supplies close at hand. She brought around the first of the horses for the afternoon, explaining that normally Beorn, the barn manager would bring them out for him, but he had the day off that day.

The first horse she brought him was a tall rangy chestnut with wide feet and a narrow blaze down his face who nosed curiously at Thorin as she buckled the cross ties to the sides of his halter, introducing him as Hank. He felt the last of his tension seem out of his shoulders as he lifted the animal’s foot. This was…exactly what he knew. He shook his head at his own foolishness, remembering something his father had told him once – ‘a horse is a horse, and a hoof is a hoof. If it cost five hundred dollars or five hundred thousand, a horse will always be a horse, and a hoof will always be a hoof.’ 

He set to work.

That first horse was surprisingly well behaved, and when he commented on that to Dori she grinned and explained that they preferred to make sure all of their animals had plenty of groundwork done with them, especially the boys. The next horse would be out in a bit, as he had just finished his exercise for the day she told him as she unclipped the cross ties to take the chestnut back to his stall.

Dusting off his hands he nodded “Any chance you could direct me to the restroom in the meantime?”

She pointed toward the far end of the barn where it met the larger structure of the covered arena. “Go in through the last big door by the arena, and through the wash rack. You’ll see a door in the back of the wash rack, that goes into the laundry and through there is the bathroom.”

With a thankful nod he started off as directed, admiring the grounds as he went.

The wash rack was easy enough to find, although there were two doors at the back of it, not one. The first led to what was apparently a tack room, so he tried the next.

And got an eyeful of a man, bending over to pull up his pants, and otherwise naked save for a pair of light blue boxer briefs. He clapped his hand over his eyes and spun around quickly.

“Oh! Jeeze, sorry! I’m sorry! Should have knocked but she said the bathroom was after the laundry and .. oh jeeze sorry!” This… was not good, walking in on someone mostly naked on the first trip the stable was Not Good, they were going to think he was a pervert or something. It didn’t help that at that moment he really _felt_ like a pervert, the brief image of the man’s firm, round rear end, so perfectly on display, was seemingly burned into the backside of his eyelids.

“I would ask if you were scared of the sight of a naked man, but unless you don’t own any mirrors I’m sure you’ve seen it all before.” The man’s voice was soft and rich, melodic, and snapped him back to reality with a wash of cold dread. He forced himself to sound as calm as he could manage. 

“It’s not a question of fear, it’s about being polite.”

There was a brief pause and he could hear the rustle of cloth. “Well… in that case thank you, but I promise it’s safe now. Shirt and everything. I assume you’re the new farrier that Thrain recommended?” 

He turned slowly, peeking under the edge of his hand and only relaxing when it was clear the man was indeed dressed. The jeans he wore clung to his frame almost as closely as breeches, and the shirt billowed a bit, too large on his slight frame, his hair a wild mass of curls surrounding his face, cheeks flush from the brisk cold and skin pale. He looked like some sort of porcelain doll, like a porcelain figurine of a great horseman of some sort.

Aaaaand Thorin was definitely being some sort of creepy pervert now. Imagining this living, breathing man in front of him as some sort of…. Doll.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m actually his son, Thorin. I was working down in Florida for a while, did a lot of shows and stuff, but I wanted to come back home, be closer to the family. He told me you guys needed someone good and there were a few of his other clients that were willing to switch as well so he doesn’t have to work so much anymore and it just worked out. Or, I’m hoping it will work out, if you folks like my work that it.”

The man barely glanced at him, and Thorin felt a well of disappointment, he knew… he knew Thorin was pervert, or well…not a pervert but well… Gay. He wasn’t really in the closet or anything and if the man had spent much time at all at the Wellington winter circuit well… horse people gossiped, like bored middle aged ladies much of the time. Probably because many of them _were_ bored middle aged ladies but still. It wouldn’t be that out of the question for him to have heard…. Something. Realized who Thorin was and now he was weirded out by this guy who had _walked in on him naked_ and really…. Thorin was probably being completely paranoid. He was probably busy… or something.

“Well it’s nice to meet you but I have some things to get done.” The man motioned at the door set to the side of the laundry machines “That door is the bathroom, and don’t worry, it’s empty.”

And with that he was gone.

In the bathroom Thorin splashed cold water on his face before relieving himself, washing his hands and getting back to work. If the man had talked to Miss Dori while Thorin was occupied he couldn’t tell, she was holding the palomino pony she had introduced Kili and Fili to earlier as ‘Frankie’ and they had been joined by a third little boy, her son? who was petting the pony’s neck.

As he approached he found that she was explaining basic parts of the horse, and some horse handling facts to the boys. When they saw him coming the boys rushed at him. 

“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!!!” The boy’s wrapped themselves around his waist, even Fili, who in his excitement, forgot his nine year old (nine and a half!!) pride.

“We got pet the goats!”

“And the donkey!” 

“And the Pony!”

“He’s so cool!”

“Can we have a pony!”

“Ori has a pony!”

“Can we play with Ori?”

Laughing he tried to sort out the jumble of his nephews excitement. “Easy now easy, so you got to pet the goats and the donkey and the pony, that is very awesome! But I’m pretty sure your mom’s yard isn’t big enough for a pony. Now then, is this Ori?”

He glanced at the boy who was feeding the pony handfuls of grass. He smiled at Dori. “Yours?”

She laughed. “Oh goodness no! Ori is my youngest brother, but it’s understandable, there is quite an age difference.”

He shook his head at his own gaffe. “Sorry, I suppose you must get that a lot. Now then, Frankie is it?” he rubbed the Pony’s forehead and dodged an ill-tempered nip. “Whoa, easy there buddy. No need to get snippy about it.”

Dori gave the pony a small jerk on the lead rope “Frankie!” she admonished him. “I’m sorry, he’s just a bit..” she trails off uncertainly as she searches for the right words.

“He’s a pony?” Thorin’s voice was wry and he watched his nephews drag Ori off to explore. As long as they were with someone that knew the grounds it likely wouldn’t be too risky.

Dori laughed, also watching the boys as they ran off together. “Yea… I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

After that they conversed lightly as he worked on trimming the pony’s feet, Dori continuously pulling Frankie’s head up and doing her best to jeep his teeth away from Thorin’s backside. He can tell this pony will not be on his favorite client’s list but thankfully Dori is a skilled handler and keeps him well enough in line.

There are a couple of other horses after that including the grey horse from earlier that he had actually been expecting before the pony and before he gathers up the boys she gives him directions to the second barn on the property, called the ‘girls club’ where on his next visit he will be trimming and shoeing the first half of the mare and filly population of Brandywine River Stables.

At least Dis will be happy, the boys have done enough running through the morning that they are both asleep minutes after he pulls off the gravel drive and onto the road.


	4. Coffee aka The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin have their first date, coffee and a bit of conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving folks! To everyone that celebrates it anyways. To those who don't, happy new chapter day! I'm using the time of off work to get some writing done, so hooray, you get a chapter!
> 
> Also, trigger warning. Some discussion of domestic abuse in this one.

Coffee

Coffee went well. So well in fact that ‘coffee’ soon became pastries and salads, the two men picking distractedly at a light lunch in between bursts of animated conversation. Bilbo talked with his hands gesturing wildly to punctuate one story or another, and he seemed to have a great many of them, having spent the later years of his youth competing internationally across Europe.

Thorin wasn’t entirely sure he believed all of it, and Bilbo didn’t seem to have any stories that were more recent than a couple of years ago but he didn’t comment. Bilbo likewise didn’t question him much when he glossed over his own history in the service with little more than a quick comment that he had joined the army out of high school and started shoeing horses after he got out.

An hour passed easily without either of them taking notice until Bilbo’s phone buzzed in his pocket indicating a new message, he checked it with an apology and Thorin raised an eyebrow as a small blush crept up his neck He looked up, clearly embarrassed. “Um, that’s Dori…”

“Checking up on you?” he asked, amused.

Bilbo’s blush grew slightly darker. “Well, um… I didn’t really want to worry about parking and she had some shopping to do so I hitched a ride into town…” he trailed off and Thorin was nodding.

“And now it’s time for you to head back, I understand.” It was disappointing, but he understood.

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t want to though…” and Thorin knew right then and there that that pout, that little pucker of his bottom lip with the soft frown across his forehead and disappointed, no, dejected look… that would be the end of him. _I will never be able to say no to that face, not if I live a thousand years_ he thought, reaching across the table to lay his hand over Bilbo’s.

“I could give you a ride back if you want to stay out a bit longer? Maybe catch a movie or get an actual meal?”

The answering smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds and he was officially done for.

“Really?”

He nodded “Yea, I’ve got the whole day free.”

Bilbo nodded and stood, gesturing with the phone “I’m just going to ring her really quickly, so she doesn’t think you killed me and took my phone or something.”

He smiled and Thorin laughed and tried not to wonder why Bilbo’s eyes looked so serious when he said that, why there was a cold knot in the pit of his stomach that didn’t seem to think it had been a joke. 

While the smaller man stepped out of the café, already raising the phone to his ear, Thorin pulled out his own phone and wallet, gesturing to the waitress as he pulled up the movie times for the nearest cinema. They had at least an hour until anything interesting started so he ordered a slice of the signature pie (ala mode of course) for them to share as well as a second round of coffee’s and handed her his credit card He had a feeling Bilbo would be the type to argue over who paid so might as well get it taken care of while he was busy.

The conversation took long enough that by the time he came back the waitress was setting their coffees and pie on the table. He looked them over curiously “I take it we aren’t in a hurry to get to the movies?” he asked wryly.

Thorin shrugged “Nothing good starts for a while so I figured, why not.”

Bilbo just chuckled and took a sip of his coffee, eyes slipping half closed in pleasure as he enjoyed the heat and richness of the beverage. The way he enjoyed coffee was almost obscene and Thorin distracted himself with a bite of the pie, the cold ice cream a startling contrast to the warm apple filling. 

As expected Bilbo made a small token protest when he learned that Thorin had already paid for the food, and the two argued the point playfully before agreeing that Bilbo would pay for the movie tickets, and they would split the check for dinner afterword’s. 

As they left the café to walk to the Cinema, Bilbo slipped his hand into Thorin’s, walking close enough that their shoulders brushed and if Thorin was at all surprised by the boldness of the move, he did not show it, reminding himself forcefully that this was a man whose livelihood relied on guiding an opinionated animal that was easily ten times his weight over obstacles taller than his head as fast as could be managed.

He probably shouldn’t be surprised if the smaller man wasn’t exactly shy.

Despite that observation it still managed to surprise him when Bilbo ushered them both to seats at the very back of the theater, cuddling close against Thorin’s shoulder as the movie started. And if by halfway into film they were sharing teasing kisses there wasn’t anyone _too_ close to where they were sitting. Thorin was at least fairly sure that there were too many other patrons in the theater, however dark, for either of them to be willing to go much further than that.

Still, he was going to have to see this movie again by himself or just claim to have not seen it if anyone asked, he had no idea what happened after the first thirty minutes.

Dinner after was full of small shy glances and flirting smiles and during the drive back to Brandywine where Bilbo lived in a small flat over Dori’s garage they held hands whenever Thorin wasn’t shifting gears.

So Thorin was understandably confused when he bent to give Bilbo a kiss goodnight at the door and the other ducked away awkwardly before they could connect.

He glanced at the curtained windows of the house and quietly asked “Afraid someone will see?”

Bilbo flushed with embarrassment. “It’s… it’s not that… not quite… I…” he stammered a bit, shifting uncertainly under Thorin’s patient gaze and he just waited. Bilbo’s shoulders slumped abruptly and he looked at his feet. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible, I know.”

Thorin felt something cold and painful twist in his belly and stepped back. “Ah, I understand. Well in that case-“

Bilbo’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm desperately as he turned to leave. “No!” His eyes were wide, startled, and in that moment he reminded Thorin of one of the horses, spooked by some unseen monster, tense, wide eyed and ready to flee but desperately trying to hold his ground at the same time.

“No, it’s not like that swear! I like you, I really do! I just…” he abruptly lost momentum, slumping once more like a puppet with its strings cut.

Thorin waited patiently and after long moments Bilbo tried again. “It… It wasn’t anything you did…”

He was starting to suspect he knew where this conversation was heading, and it wasn’t a pleasant suspicion. “Someone before me then.” He said it quietly, gently, and it was not a question.

And if it had been a question then the way that Bilbo abruptly stiffened, hunching his shoulders and pulling in on himself was easily answer enough.

He took a slow deep breath. It wasn’t even a surprise, really. Part of him had been suspecting something for a while now, he realized. Although he hadn’t been conscious of the suspicion until this moment. It made too much sense, the long gap in his stories where it seemed like between last year and two years ago he had no stories to tell, no big shows he had been at. And while Thorin had seen him last winter riding his big bay Trebuchet, he vaguely remembered hearing people talk about ‘Terry’ being a _new_ ride for Bilbo, that he was making _an impressive comeback_.

He shifted back to facing Bilbo, who he noticed was still holding his arm. “That’s alright then.”

Bilbo looked up at him uncertainly clearly uncertain how to read that statement. 

“It’s….” he started carefully, not entirely sure how to explain. “My sister, her ex…. I wasn’t around when they got together so I don’t know how he was in the beginning but… he’s in jail now. For what he did to her. He hurt her, for years. And she was…” he shrugged “He took her to a different state where she didn’t have family and she didn’t have a job and got her pregnant and she didn’t know how to get away and he hurt her and she covered for him for a long time, thought she loved him. He’s been gone for years now, since before Kili was born but she’s still…” he shrugged “She has good days and bad days, and that’s okay.”

He gestured then, between them with the arm that Bilbo wasn’t holding. “ _This_ is okay, really. You’ve not been horrible, you’ve been wonderful, and I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and I want to take you to dinner again. Dinner and other things, the park, the museum, movies, concerts whatever. I don’t care, and I don’t care if that’s all it is for a long time, because to be honest I’m a little messed up sometimes myself, and slow may be good for us both.”

Bilbo rewarded him with a small shy smile and he felt warmth soar through him. Bilbo bit his lip. 

“I’m sorry… about your sister. That… has to be hard. I don’t… it wasn’t like that. For me, I mean. He only…” he took a bracing breath. “He only hurt me once, and it was bad, put me in the hospital, knocked me out… he told the doctor I had a riding accident and the doctor knew about the stable so he believed him… I wasn’t awake when he brought me in but when I did wake up….” He met Thorin’s eyes and there was steel in his gaze, the bold fearlessness that could hold a stubborn stallion to pace when all it wanted was to get to the next fence as fast as possible and damn the stride. 

“As soon as I woke up I called for the nurse and I told her to get him out of my room, that he hurt me, that he beat me, and raped me and I was pressing charges and to call the police and get him the fucking hell away from me.”

Thorin swallowed past the tightness in his throat and took a deep bracing breath. “Okay, honestly? I really …. _really_ want to kiss you right now.”

Bilbo blinked up at him owlishly, taken aback by the admission. “Y..You?... Why? I just told you…”

Thorin looked down at where Bilbo’s hand was still on his forearm and he carefully shifted them so he had the other’s hand clasped between his. 

“Bilbo… You are amazing, strong and determined and I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but if you were expecting that to put me off…” he shook his head.” It just shows all the more how amazing you are, and I want to kiss you, and I want to take you out to dinner again, dinner or the park or a museum or I don’t even care!” his voice started to rise at the end and he brought himself back into control carefully. 

“I realize that you probably want to take things slow, that’s good, I expect that. But I want to spend more time with you, and I’m not going to get scared away unless you tell me flat out you don’t want to spend time with me. ”

Bilo’s eyes were shining suspiciously in the early evening light as he stared up at Thorin during the other’s speech. He swallowed a couple times, uncertainly, and looked down at their clasped hands for a moment. Thorin feared he would pull his hand away but he did not. After a moment he looked up at Thorin again. “Alright.”

Thorin blinked “Alright?”

He nodded “Alright.”

Thorin nodded “Alright. I’ll call you in the morning?”

Bilbo laughed then, a small and bright and unexpected burst of sound. “Well, yes, alright to that too, but also… the other thing you said. Alright.”

Thorin was a bit lost. ”Umm….” he had said several things recently and any of them could – oh… OH!

He squeezed Bilbo’s hand softly and raised his other hand, first touching Bilbo’s cheek softly, brushing back a stray wisp of hair, then gently cupping his cheek, encouraging him to tip his head just so as he carefully covered the other’s mouth with his own.

The kiss was soft, chaste compared to those they had shared in the theater, but somehow measures sweeter. 

They separated slowly, Bilbo’s eyes fluttering slowly open from where they had closed. Thorin brushed his thumb across Bilbo’s lip, fascinated by the plump wetness of it, before gathering himself. He gave his hand another squeeze. “Alright. Alright then, I will call you tomorrow, and I _will_ be calling you, you aren’t rid of me yet. But until then have a good night.”

Bilbo echoed the goodnight and stood on the doorstep as Thorin retreated to his truck and only entered the house when it became obvious that the other was not going to leave until he was back inside the warmth and safety of Dori’s home.


	5. Cold Snap, Colic, and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden cold snap brings every horse owners worst fear into Bilbo's barn, his first horse, a temperamental mare named Lobelia who is due to drop a foal in mid spring is colicing.
> 
> Thorin steps up as a Good Boyfriend (are they boyfriends yet if this is only technically their third date?) and does his best to be supportive and comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All (both of) the horse people read the title and went ._. Colic?!?! ONHOES!!!!!
> 
> This took three tries to get it to be what I wanted it to be. Also my subconscious seems to think that Bilbo is actually some sort of exotic herb because I keep typing Bilobo instead. 
> 
> **Warning, this next bit may be disturbing to some, as it mentions death**
> 
> A word on Colic – 
> 
> For those who know very little/nothing about horses, colic for horses is very different from the colic that babies get. In a horse colic can be anything from a vaguely upset stomach, to a twisted/ruptured intestine. Colic is every horse owner’s worst nightmare, it can be caused by nothing more than a bit of stress, or a sudden change in the weather, or just a bit of bad hay. And it can, and does, kill. I have only ever had one horse of my own colic under my care and thankfully after a few scary days he was fine, but I have seen several cases, including an almost 20 year old gelding that underwent a successful gastric surgery to sort out his twisted guts and is now 28 and still as feisty as ever, and a friend’s mare who coliced repeatedly over several days and was found dead in her stall after nearly a day and a half of her being fine and the owner thinking they were finally out of the woods (creepily, I was hauling out for a show that morning, she was fine at that time when I stopped by her stall, and I may have been the last person to see her alive ._. as she was found dead less than 2 hours later). For the horse people who may be wondering, the colic mentioned in this chapter is just a basic gas colic, scary but not generally fatal.

Dori was just pouring boiling hot chocolate into a large thermos when the phone rang, she picked it up without thinking, and answered without even looking at the screen. “We are still waiting for her to poo.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone and then a deep, entertain “Umm…… I think I may have the wrong number? I was calling for Dori Richards?” And she recognized the voice of the new shoer, Thorin. Bilbo’s possible new beau. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that but Bilbo needed to get back out and have a life. Getting back into the ring was part of that, and dating again would be another part of it, and she was really being overprotective she knew, but he was like one of her own brother’s, she had known him for so long.

“Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. Yes this is Dori, I thought this was Dr. Latver’s office calling again. What can I do for you?”

“I take it then that Belly is still not doing well?”

“Bilbo told you about it?” She balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could spin the lid on the thermos nice and tight to keep the heat in.

“He texted me earlier that she was colicing, since we had plans for tonight.”

She paused as she set the thermos on the countertop. “I hope you’re not calling me to ask that I talk him into going out tonight even if his baby might be dying.” There was no mistaking the open hostility in her voice.

“What?! No!” Thorin squawked. “God no! That’s… that is NOT why I am calling!”

She waited patiently, standing in her quiet kitchen while an unseasonal snow drifted slowly down outside. “Alright then, why are you calling?”

She could hear him sigh on the other side of the line, gathering his thoughts perhaps, or rethinking whatever it was he had been calling about.

“I was calling to ask what his favorite comfort food was.”

She frowned. “And yet you just said.-“

“Take out comfort food, delivery, something that’s easy to eat in the barn, horse show food, that kind of thing.”

She paused, understanding dawning. “You do realize you’re talking about sitting in out in a cold arena, in the snow, and he is going to be distracted, and worried, and all he wants tonight is to see that mare poop. There will be nothing romantic or glamorous about it.”

“I get that.”

She really doubted that he did, but if nothing else he would it out for himself. So she gave him the name and address of a place in town that did good burgers and fried chicken to go, and decided to let him decide for himself if playing second fiddle to the horses in Bilbo’s life was something he could live with. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bilbo was wrapped in a thick wool cooler, settled against a corner of the arena where the walls were solid and the chill not too cutting while he sipped at the hot chocolate that Dori had brought him earlier and watched Lobelia closely. The vet had been out already and she had been dosed with banamine and mineral oil and had finally seemed to relax but she still hadn’t eaten or had any bowel movements in hours. 

So he was curled up against the wall, doing his best to keep warm while the mare who was due to foal in mid-february was allowed to wander loose in the arena. Buckets against the wall near him had fresh water, water with rice bran, with bran mash, and one with a couple of beers dumped into it, and a net full of fresh hay did their best to tempt her but the mare ignored them all.

He reached up as she nosed curiously at his blanket, hand swiping briefly across her nose before she pulled away pinning her ears briefly before pricking them again and sniffing at his thermos. "Oh I see how it is” he told the mare as he pushed her nose away from his drink and she wandered toward one of the buckets. “First you ruin my date then you want some of _my_ cocoa, yea you go have some of that. That’s for you.” She looked at him, ears flicking forward then back and sniffed at the bran flavored water, lipping at it’s surface before wandering away again.

He sighed. So close.

The rolling barn door squealed as it was pushed open, then closed again and he renewed his mental note to oil the wheels as he watched to see who had come out in the cold. Probably it was Beorn, his apartment was built along the side of the mare’s barn much like Hamfast’s was along the side of the stallion and gelding barn and Dori had been out for much of the day with him while he worried over his mare.

It might be Ori, but that was doubtful as it was late enough to already be dark and the snow wasn’t heavy enough to close school tomorrow.

Lobelia ambled to the far side of the arena to inspect the visitor herself, pinning her ears as an arm reached over the solid wall in a failed attempt to pat her nose. Not Beorn then, possibly. She normally liked the large man but he is probably the only person in the world other than Bilbo that she does like and with her stomach hurting she is more sour than usual so it could be him.

The visitor chuckled as he comes into view peering into the arena. “Yeah, I know, not your favorite person miss grumpy-pants. Now where is your, Ah, there’s daddy.” Thorin grinned as he saw him, tugging down his scarf and reaching for the bolt to open the gate and step into the arena. 

Bilbo climbed to his feet, careful of the hot mug of chocolate. “Thorin? What are you doing here?”

He had a large brown bag in his arms that he juggled a bit back and forth while he shut the gate, Lobelia not helping much as she nosed at him and he was careful to avoid letting her get to friendly, which is likely wise as she is known for being a bit nippy. “Well, we had plans didn’t we?”

Bilbo frowned, he thought he had made it very clear to the other that with Lobelia, his first horse that was truly his and the mother of Sting, the mare that was his first really great mount who had been the springboard that launched him into the career that he was still struggling to keep on it’s feet, colicing there would be no date tonight. “Thorin, I told you I can’t leave tonight.”

He grinned and held up the bag in his arms, and now Bilbo could see the logo of one of his favorite fast-food stops. “Yea, I know. That’s why our date came to you. Now I wasn’t sure what you would want.” He started to rustle through the bag as he walked across the arena toward Bilbo, Lobelia following curiously. “So I got a couple burgers, a big thing of the chicken strips, and fries of course.” He noticed the mare at his elbow and paused, holding out a hand to her with a couple of fries on his palm.

“You want fries? Bit of extra grease to get things moving?” the mare niffed at the fries and mouthed them, picking them out of Thorin’s hand then dropping them into the dirt as she shook her head, mouth gaping and tongue working to spit them out and as soon as they hit the ground she was nosing at the bag again. This time Thorin pushed her nose away.

“Nope, sorry you just lost your french fry privileges.” He had to push her away a couple of times before she left him alone and he closed the rest of the distance between where he had stopped, and where Bilbo was waiting, holding the sack open for the shorter man to dig through the selection of food.

“I can’t believe you drove all the way out here to bring me take out burgers and sit in the cold with me like this.” He commented as he found the box of chicken strips and pulled it out. “I mean, you realize I’m probably going to be out here most of the night right?”

Thorin just shrugged. “Believe it or not, I have actually heard of the whole ‘love me, love my horse’ thing, and really,” he shrugged again, waving his hand to indicate the barn “We have walls, a roof, a blanket and light. Cell phone service if we need it, and company. I have spent nights in much worse conditions, with far less. That’s assuming you’re going to share that blanket of course.”

Bilbo smiled, laughing softly and shifting up onto his toes to give Thorin a small kiss. “Yes I will share my blanket with you. It’s a horse blanket though, so it doesn’t exactly smell like roses.”

They shifted and settled back against the wall together, sitting on the blanket and wrapping the long edges of it around their bodies to keep warm, it meant they had to sit pressed tightly together and the bag of food was settled in Thorin’s lap as he fished out one of the burgers. “I’m okay with a bit of horse funk. Again, not the worst thing I’ve dealt with.”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully and picked his way through the chicken strips. After they had both eaten in silence for a few moments he cleared his throat. “You say you’ve dealt with worse, and I assume you mean during your service, but you haven’t ever really said much about… that.” He watched Lobelia relaxing against the far wall, ears flopping to the side as her head drooped and she dozed, lower lip hanging loosely the way it did when she slept.

Thorin was significantly quiet beside him for a moment. “I’ll be honest, I don’t like talking about it much.”

“That’s fine.” He replied a bit too quickly. “You don’t have too.”

Thorin picked through the fries while he picked his words. “I know that I don’t have too, and I know that its fine. Sometimes however, I want to.” He paused, inspecting the crust of salt on one of the fries before eating it. “And sometimes I can’t. But I do think that I should, at least a little.”

Bilbo rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “Believe me when I say that I completely understand, and whatever you are comfortable with, whenever you are comfortable with it.”

Thorin shifted to wrap his arm around Bilbo, burying his face for a moment in the other’s soft riot of curls.

“I joined the army right out of high school” his voice was low in the creeping hush of the barn. “My folks were ….. Not supportive of my decision. But I was eighteen and there wasn’t much they could do.”

He was silent for a while and tentatively Bilbo asked “Why did you join?”

“My best friend, Dwalin, was going and….” He shrugged. “Frerin was just a kid, we have six years between us and I had come out the summer before and he… well he was a kid and he thought everything in the world was about him at that age…. Not that he’s changed much but at least he isn’t a complete dick anymore, but back then all he cared about was that suddenly he was the kid in school with the faggot brother. Never mind that I was the school’s hero quarterback or anything like that, and it was a pretty okay school, I mean, I got some flak but Dwalin and I were the biggest kids in school, and the most popular, and he made it clear that anyone messing with me was messing with him and nobody on the team wanted either one of us to even _consider_ not playing football so they came around to having our back pretty quick too….”

“Long story short, my grandfather was a dick about me being gay, my brother was a dick about me being gay, my parents didn’t are much but they wanted me to go to college and I had no idea what the hell I would do at a place like that and my best friend in the world was going to sign up so I decided I would too. Stupid shit you do when your young, you know?”

Bilbo nodded. “I know all about stupid shit, believe me. Of course, my stupid shit usually involved underage drinking in countries that I didn’t speak any of the local language in, not people shooting at me, but hey” he shrugged.

Thorin chuckled. “I’m just having images of you getting tossed in a German drunk tank or something now.”

“It was French actually, and coincidentally I met my first boyfriend there… well, I say boyfriend. We hung out for a couple weeks and jacked off together once” he laughed softly in memory “And then I was off to Ireland and I can’t even remember his name now.”

Thorin chuckled as well “Wow, and how underage were you, exactly?”

He blushed and Thorin would swear he could feel the heat of the other’s cheeks through his sweatshirt. “Ummmm…….I kind of don’t want to answer that?”

Thorin poked him in the ribs “Okay, Now you _have_ to tell me.”

He hid his face in Thorin’s shoulder and mumbled something. “Nooo… that doesn’t count, you have to say it loud enough that I can hear you.” A thought occurred to him. “And in English please.”

“Fourteen”

“You got thrown in the drunk tank in France at age fourteen? Do I dare ask how old the guy you picked up was? Or who picked you up I suppose?”

“Um… twenty?”

“TWENTY!!”

Across the arena Lobelia’s head popped up suddenly, ears back at the sudden exclamation. “You were fourteen and he-!”

Bilbo poked him in the ribs. “Oh don’t be like that. Like I said, it was for like, a couple weeks, maybe a week and a half, tops, we could barely communicate since I didn’t know any French, he didn’t know any English, so we were basically hanging out and doing charades in a bit of Spanish, and we got off together _once_ and he didn’t touch me aside from holding my hand.”

Thorin shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “What about your parent’s? What did they think of that?”

“My dad didn’t like travel much so he stayed in Belgium where the Richards have a stable yard and that was kind of our home base while we were in Europe, and before that my mom just gave me some cash and said to have fun and stay safe.”

“And after that?”

“After that she gave me cash, a prepaid cell phone and a box of condoms and told me to have fun and stay safe. And to preferably keep it within my age group.”

“Am I allowed to question her parental decisions?” He wondered carefully, squirming when he got another hard poke in the ribs.

“No you are not. My mother is fabulous and amazing and possibly a bit terrifying but mostly fabulous and amazing.”

“Fair enough. Mother’s are generally neutral territory at any rate.”

Bilbo shifted and curled a bit closer to his side, soaking up the extra body heat as he watched Lobelia pick her way slowly across the arena to investigate the buckets again. “What’s yours like?”

“My mom?”

He nodded and Thorin thought for a moment. “Oh I suppose she is like any mom, amazing and fabulous and a bit terrifying. She would never let me wander off in a foreign country as a teenager though, she tried to convince me at one point that if I joined the service I would never be allowed in the house again. She didn’t mean it, it was just a scare tactic to get me to stay but… we both knew that she didn’t really mean it so it didn’t really work.”

“She just didn’t want you to get hurt I bet. “Bilbo’s voice was a slow and hushed, eyelids drooping as Lobelia picked uncertainly at a few wisps of hay escaping the net.

“Yea. I know.”

There was silence between them for a long a time after that, and when Thorin finally broke it with the soft whisper “Hey look, your horse is actually eating.” He was met only with more silence, Bilbo’s breath having gone deep and slow as the stress of worrying over his mare for most of the day finally caught up with him.

He shifted the barest bit, just barely tightening his hold on the other man as he let his own heavy eyelids droop, lulled by the soft sounds of night in the barn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Deep blue eyes snapped open to sudden wakeful clarity and without moving Thorin took a quick stock of his surroundings. Bilbo was still pressed tight to his side, and Lobelia stood only a few feet away, in the process of lifting her head towards the barn door, the sound of it’s opening and closing having awoken her as well. Enough time had passed that the hay net nearby was half empty and sand up the side of her stable rug attested that at some point she had laid down. 

The arena gate opened with the heavy slide of a wooden bar and Bilbo stirred slowly as Dori came into view, bundled in a heavy jacket against the cold. She seemed somewhat surprised to see him still there, but he turned his attention toward Bilbo, who was shifting now against him as he woke. Soft sounds, sighs and little groans, escaped his lips as he fought his way up from sleep, stretching and shifting and for a moment seeming to settle against Thorin’s side once more as if to fall back asleep, then he stiffened and slowly looked up, expression somewhat bewildered but not upset.

He gave him a small smile and Bilbo smiled back, shy and warm and relaxed. “Mmmm….” He stretched again and Thorin quietly reveled in the feeling of his body pressed close. “What time is it?” his voice was groggy and thick with sleep. 

Thorin was not one for praying, having long ago lost sight of any gods he may have believed in as a child in that distant foreign desert with unnatural thunder in his ears and blood in his mouth, and in that moment he did not pray, but instead he hoped, _hoped_ with every fiber of his being, that he would see this sight again, hear this sound again. Because Bilbo Baggins, half asleep and just crawling back into consciousness, was easily the most enchanting thing he had encountered in years.

Dori broke the moment, then, reminding him quite suddenly of his presence as she answered “It’s nearly one in the morning, and if you’re going to sleep, you should do it in a bed. Can’t be good for your hip, or your back, laying out here in the cold like this.” She trailed off, muttering as she knelt before them, tugging at the blanket. “Come on then, let’s get you up.”

Bilbo let her tug him to his feet, Thorin rising behind him and staying close as he started t shiver almost immediately as the warmth of their little cocoon fled. He stretched again with a mighty yawn, joints popping and cracking in protest. Voice still groggy he glanced at the horse who was watching them curiously, ears flicking slowly back and forth and she thought about whether or not she was offended by their presence. “She’s looking good, has she poo’d?”

Dori inclined her head at a couple of piles in the sand of the arena. “Yep, couple of times from the look of it. I would say we’re past the worst of the risk, but Beorn will be looking in on her every hour or so for the rest of the night, well… morning, anyways. Now you need to get off to bed.” He looked at Thorin. “And probably best for you to be getting yourself home as well, no doubt you have work to do in the morning.” 

He shrugged noncommittally, his mornings were rarely very early and at that moment with Bilbo leaning into his side against the cold he was in little hurry to be leaving. The man in question nudged him lightly, looking up from under the fringe of his frizzed curls. 

“Gimme a ride up to the house?” he asked and Thorin nodded, resting his arm around his shoulders. “Sure.”

After assuring himself that Lobelia was in fact doing fine, a task that apparently included feeding her a handful of treats from his pocket and rolling up the back half of her rug so he could press his ear to her flank for several moments, Bilbo let Thorin usher him out of the barn and into the cab of his truck for the short drive back to the main house.

The ride was silent save for the steady thrum of the heater vents working overtime to pull as much heat from the engine as they could during the short passage across the river and up the hillside, and the soft crunch of fresh snow under the heavy all-weather tires. Thorin reached across the cup holders to wrap Bilbo’s hand in his. “I’m glad your girl is okay.” He said softly, breaking the quiet hush of the cab.

Bilbo squeezed his hand in response. “I’m glad you came out here tonight. You really didn’t have to, I’m sure it would have been much more comfortable at home.”

“Eh… not as much as you think.” He admitted. “My place lost power early in the morning, not sure if has it back yet.”

Bilbo’s reply was laced with concern. “But what about your cats? They must be cold.”

He glanced over with a small smile as they crossed the bridge and started up the small incline toward the house, its windows dark and shuttered against the night.

“Dis is kitty-sitting for me. She has underground power lines like this place, and I only moved out of her spare room a few months back so they are just fine with it. Monty loves Fili anyways and she has that big fireplace so I doubt they are missing me at all.”

Bilbo was silent as the pulled up to the house, Thorin pulling in to the side of the garage next to the side door that lead directly up to the mother-in-law apartment above the garage that was Bilbo’s home, and made no move to leave the now warm cabin of the truck as he parked.

Thorin glanced over to find him looking silently out into the cold darkness. “Bilbo?” his tone made a question of his name and brought his attention around. He gave Thorin a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Stay here tonight.” His voice was soft but firm, decided.

Thorin hesitated and Bilbo was quick to assure. “Just to sleep, we’re both adults after all, I’m sure we can manage. It’s late and your place isn’t exactly close and if you don’t have power…” He trailed off and Thorin had to smile at the concern and care in that statement.

 

“I would really like to, but... well. Probably a couple things we should discuss first, you know?”

Bilbo shifted in the seat to face him more fully. “I’m not afraid of you. Maybe you think I should be but I’m not. I think you are a good man and I don’t think you would hurt me, especially not with Dori just down the hall and Beorn in running distance”

That received a wry chuckle, it was a fairly valid threat after all. Bilbo may have been much smaller than Thorin, barely reaching 5’4” against his 6’3”, but Beorn had another 5 inches above even Thorin and was heavily muscled making him the biggest human being that Thorin had ever met. “You make a good point, but that wasn’t actually what I was considering.”

Bilbo rested his head against the seat back and watched him as he rubbed his thumb in small circles against the back of Thorin’s hand, waiting for the other to elaborate. 

“I told you I was in the army; that I was over in the sandbox.”

Bilbo nodded carefully.

“If I stay here tonight, you have to understand something, and you have to make me a promise.”

“I can probably do that.” He answered, knowing better than to insist it wouldn’t be a problem without hearing what the issue actually was.

Thorin looked at their hands, linked in the hush of the truck cab. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well. Sometimes I have bad dreams and if I do you can’t just…. Grab me or something, to wake me up. I could hurt you on accident. If I have a bad dream like that sometimes I wake up swinging, you know?” He looked up and there was something naked, vulnerable in his expression and Bilbo nodded. 

“I’ve heard of things like that, I should talk to you, right? Or say your name or something, try to wake you up with my voice from a distance?”

Thorin nodded. “Knocking on wood is a good method, it sounds like someone at the door and that usually works pretty well. Also if you have to use the bathroom or something, don’t try to be quiet. Being quiet and sneaky will wake me up a lot faster than just thumping around.”

Bilbo gave him a wry smile. “That one I will probably have to focus on specifically, Nori always tells me I’m as quiet as a ghost all the time. I think he’s just mad because he likes to sneak up people to make them jump, and he can never sneak up on me but I _always_ get him.”

“It’s not a joke Bilbo, I could hurt you without meaning to, and I really… _really_ don’t want to do that. I would never be able to forgive myself.”

Bilbo nodded seriously. “I get that, I do. And I’m not afraid. Well, maybe a little but I’m always a little afraid sometimes for no good reason… which is stupid because it’s like… jumping is the one thing in the world that never scares me and that’s a sport that can kill you, but things that are just, normal silly thing scare me.”

Sensing that he was trying to lighten the mood, Thorin grinned, unclicking his seatbelt and starting their two-man exodus from the warmth of the cab and into the house. The side door lead up a small staircase to the sitting room of Bilbo’s little apartment and Thorin took a moment the look around at the space he had never yet been privy to. A windowed French door across the room presumably led to the rest of the house, tucked into a corner near it were a pair of solid white doors that were most likely bedroom and bathroom, and an open kitchenette was separated from the sitting room by a narrow bar that took the place of a table.

A fireplace set against the wall across from the kitchenette was apparently not used as it was blocked with a saddle rack that had a pile of leather straps and saddle pads draped haphazardly over it, boxes piled into a corner had at some point been opened, dug through, and restacked in a jumbled mess with cardboard flaps sticking in random directions, and varied paraphernalia hanging out or shoved into gaps.

It was a scattered mess of _things_ everywhere he looked, even the bar had only a few inches of exposed space in front of on empty chair that was likely where Bilbo took his meals, the rest of it was a mess of trophies, glass plaques, candles, and vase full of drooping autumn flowers that might of needed water a few days ago, now they just needed a trash can.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess…” Bilbo looked around at his living space, wondering just how he had forgotten how disorganized it was until someone else was standing there taking in the mess of his life.

“To be honest I was going to ask what the most normal, silly thing that scared you was, but now I have a much more pressing question.”

He winced. “Yes?”

Thorin pointed and his voice was incredulous. “Is that a goldfish bowl full of bits?”

“yeeessss……”

“ _Why_ is there a goldfish bowl full of bit?”

He shrugged, moving toward the pair of white doors and opening the one furthest from the French door, revealing a bedroom that was a stark contrast to the living room. A queen sized mattress and box spring rested directly on the pale carpet and aside from a trunk at the foot of the bed, a small table at its head, and a dark wood dresser the room was unadorned and empty.

“Because the fish died and I didn’t want another one and it was a good size to hold the extra bits I have that I’m not using right now.”

He nodded slowly as Bilbo sat on the edge of the mattress to pull off his boots.

“Also, washing machines.”

That pulled his attention away from a stack of boxes near the door that was topped with a pile of framed photograph’s, all of which seemed to be of horses going over jumps, some of them ponies ridden by a somewhat gangly kid and all of them, he presumed, chronicling Bilbo’s riding career.

“Washing machines?”

“Washing machines.”

“Okay, I’m lost. Why are we talking about washing machines?”

Bilbo glance up, scooting his boots to the side against the wall. “You asked what the silliest, most normal thing that scares me is. Washing Machines.”

He blinked and stepped further into the room so that he could pull of his own boots. “Um…. Is there a reason why washing machines scare you?”

Bilbo laughed and crossed the room to dig an undershirt out of the dresser. “Nope! Absolutely no rational valid reason at all!” he sounded cheerful about it. “My mom thinks it’s because when I was like, a year old my dad put my teddy bear in the washing machine and it ripped him up, but c’mon, I was _one_ I highly doubt that had anything to do with it, and he doesn’t even claim to remember doing it, so I think she is just trying to come up with excuses and honestly? I have a completely irrational, meaningless phobia of washing machines. Mostly while, top load washing machines.”

He thought about that for a moment while Bilbo pulled off his sweatshirt and traded the t-shirt he was wearing for the new undershirt and he shed his own bulky top layers. “Did your folks have white, top load washing machines?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Nope!” Bilbo turned away as he slid out of his jeans, revealing thermal leggings underneath that were quickly peeled away as well, leaving him in the undershirt and his boxer-briefs, not that Thorin was looking or anything… “Mom told me she got her red laundry set as a wedding gift from my grand-mum and she’s had a red laundry room ever since. You can take off your jeans, they wouldn’t be comfortable in bed anyways” He paused “I mean, assuming you aren’t um…”

“Free-balling?”

“Yes. That.”

Thorin laughed and stood, unbuckling his belt. “Nope, I am definitely a boxers man.” His were deep royal blue, and silk.

“Good to know.” Bilbo turned the lamp on the bedside table on, and crossed the room to turn the main light off, while Thorin pulled back the sheets and slid into the cool bed. “Mmm… is this a foam mattress?”

“Foam topper.” Bilbo closed the bedroom door and slid into bed alongside him, turning off the lamp after a moment

What followed then was several moments of uncomfortable stillness from both of them, then a bit of cautious shifting, and finally Bilbo started to snicker. Thorin poked him softly. “What are you snickering about?”

Bilbo rolled so he was facing Thorin and suddenly snuggled against the other, pillowing his head in the crook of the larger man’s arm. “Us. Being silly. Because we are. I hope you don’t mind cuddling because I am an unrepentant cuddler and yea, this is what’s happening.”

Thorin chuckled and shifted a bit so that his body was aligned with Bilbo’s, wrapping his arms around the other’s body and tugging him a bit closer. “Cuddling is completely okay with me.”

After that there was silence as they both settled in to gather what sleep they could in what remained of the night.


	6. Ch 6 Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small collection of single paragraph scenes that start right after Ch 5 and I honestly don’t even know the timing between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it has been so long since I have posted anything! I swear I’m not dead but I have been in a very odd headspace the last few weeks. I’ve cleaned my whole house top to bottom, which is Not Me, and every time I try to write none of the things in my head want to become words. 
> 
> Also I have severe carpal tunnel syndrome that has been making things very difficult lately. I’ve started the process that will eventually end in surgery but it’s going to take a bit. Until then my left hand is so bad right now that I can barely hold the reins to ride my horse, and I’m typing primarily one handed, so when I can get the words to come, they come slowly.
> 
> For those who are waiting for the sequel to Say It With Mushrooms, it is going to be a multi-chapter I think and Ch 1 is a bit over half done.
> 
> Again, really sorry I’m so slow right now!

Waking did not come gently to Thorin.

He did not even wake, so much as cease being asleep, consciousness reclaiming his awareness with a rush of adrenalin and the sharp panicking sensation that something was _wrong_

He didn’t so much as twitch, taking careful stock of the situation first.

He was in a strange bed, Bilbo’s he recalled. The other man had insisted he stay given the late hour and the lack of power at his apartment. Bilbo in fact was pressed tight to his side, face mashed into his bicep, soft puffs of breath ticking the soft skin at the edge of his underarm.

That was fine. That hadn’t woken him.

It was still late, or early enough to still be night at least. He carefully let his eyes crack open, peering through the lashes. 

A line of light cut across the dark bedroom.

The door was open, just a touch. It had been closed when they had gone to sleep.

His back tensed.

Bilbo shifted, stretched against him, and suddenly sat up, pushing himself up on one hand the other pushing back his thick riot of curls. “mmmmm Dori?” he half mumbled, half whispered.

Thorin closed his eyes and kept still. He heard the boards creak softly under the woman’s weight.

“I saw his truck was still here.” He voice was soft and held a question, but not an accusation, thankfully.

“He doesn’t have power at home, I told him to stay.” He broke off with a yawn. “We are playing nicely like the civilized adults that we are, I promise.”

Silence for a long moment. 

“I just worry.”

“I know.”

“Sleep well.”

“I have been, and thank you. For worrying.”

There was a moment of silence and Thorin almost opened his eyes, then Bilbo sighed, sounds tired and exasperated. “…What Dori?”

“……… You really should clean this place up, it’s rater atrocious don’t you think?”

“ _Goodnight Dori_ ”

There was a soft huff and he nearly laughed then the door creaked softly as it was eased closed and the room was fully dark once more.

A surprisingly strong finger poked at his shoulder. “I know you’re awake mister.”

He grinned then, slipping his arm around Bilbo’s waist and looked up at him with mirthful eyes. “And how did you figure that one out, mister clever?” he asked teasingly, voice rough from the sleep he hadn’t yet had nearly enough of, and would very much like to get back to.

Grinning Bilbo lay back down, cuddling against his shoulder once more. “Oh that was easy. You snore.”

Thorin stiffened, indignant. “I do not!” How could he possibly snore! He was a soldier, had slept in places where discovery meant death, had been perfectly silent in all moments of his day, had-

Bilbo snaked his own arm across the larger man’s stomach, pulling close against him and nuzzling up under Thorin’s chin. “Yes, you do. Not very loud, but you definitely snore. Maybe it’s just because you’re so tired, but you were definitely snoring.”

He sighed then, feeling rather put upon, but deciding that in this case, it wasn’t worth disagreement. Besides, if he pressed the issue Bilbo may move and he very much enjoyed the feeling of the smaller pressed as close as he could manage. So instead he closed his eyes, breathed in the sweet smell of fresh hay clinging to Bilbo’s hair, and let himself be claimed by sleep once more.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Bilbo glanced over from where he was standing with his back against the arena railing, watching his haul-in student take a break from her jumping, letting her horse stretch his neck low and relax in long striding walk. “Yeah?”

Thorin crossed his arms and leaned on the top rail near his boyfriend’s shoulder. And he was his boyfriends now, they had had _the talk_. Not THAT talk but the ‘defining the relationship’ talk.

“What is the deal with the pony?”

He cocked his head, considering the question. “Not sure what you’re asking me here?”

“Is his name Freddy, or Frankie? Because you call him Freddy, and Ori and Beorn call him Freddy when Dori isn’t around, and Frankie when she is, and she only calls him Frankie, so what, exactly, is his name?”

Bilbo laughed. “Ahhh… that is indeed the question. When Dori was a child and they first got the pony, his name was Frankie, and his name continued to _be_ Frankie for quite some time. Of course, Dori outgrew him and he became Nori’s pony.”

“And Nori changed his name to Freddy?”

“Well, not right away. Not until he was about twelve or so. Then he decided that Freddy was a _much_ better name for the pony than Frankie. And because of reasons most folks agree, and Dori absolutely hates it.”

“I don’t understand, what’s even the difference? They’re practically the same name.”

Bilbo considered for a moment.

“Well…. let me put it this way. His registered name is Krugerrand.”

It took Thorin a few moments to catch on. “Wait… wait. You’re telling me the pony is named ‘Freddy Kruger’?”

Bilbo’s grin was wicked. “Oh yes. I am telling you the pony’s name is Freddy Kruger.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and pushed away from the arena fence. “Alright, well I better get moving on to my next stop. See you tomorrow night?”

With a nod Bilbo turned to claim a quick goodbye kiss before bidding Thorin farewell for the moment.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Laughing and grinning, Bilbo ducked into Thorin’s apartment as soon as he had the door open, the larger man following close behind as he tried to resume his thwarted tickle attack while also closing and locking the door. It took a couple of tries but as soon as he had the latch firmly closed he spun, grabbing at Bilbo who gave a playful cry but jumped up willingly when Thorin hefted him off his feet.

The feel of strong legs closing around his waist prompted an appreciative hum from the tall farrier as he slid his hands down under Bilbo’s thighs to support his weight, giving his rear an appreciative squeeze as he did. Bilbo smacked him playfully on the shoulder with a mock glare that was met with a grin, a kiss and another squeeze. He kissed back but poked Thorin again protesting “Hey! I’m at a distinct disadvantage here!”

Thorin just grinned at him again. “Yes you are” he could fit that pert little rear easily in his hands, and spread his fingers wide, the firm rounds of Bilbo’s butt well developed from years of riding and making very pleasant handfuls. “And if you poke me again I’m going to drop you.”

Bilbo raised a brow at the challenge and with a rather daring look poked Thorin in the shoulder once more, harder this time.

With a very unimpressed look Thorin considered a moment, the completely removed his arms.

And it was Bilbo’s turn to be unimpressed when powerful legs tightened around Thorin’s waist and he didn’t drop an inch.

Thorin blinked.

“Okay, that is seriously hot.”

Bilbo _squeezed_.

“Oh ow! Ow! Ok, ok I’m sorry, mercy! Mercy!” Thorin gripped his smaller boyfriend again half supporting him, half pulling as the rider’s legs closed around him like a vise grip, squeezing far tighter than was comfortable. Bilbo kept his grip up for a moment then loosened his legs, using the support of Thorin’s arms to carefully slip down so he was standing again. 

Once the shorter man was on his feet again, Thorn rubbed at his sides “Oh man, I think I’m going to have bruises! Jeeze, I feel sorry for your horse!” 

Bilbo huffed and walked over to the couch, dropping to sit on the plush leather. “Don’t, he has much stronger sides than you do.” He said with a teasing grin as he rubbed the head of one of Thorin’s cats who had come over to see what was going on.

After another moment of rubbing at his poor abused sides Thorin sat on the couch next to him. “Yea well, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Riders have amazing legs?”

“Seriously.”

With a wicked grin, Bilbo shifted and swung his leg up over Thorin’s lap so he was straddling his legs, grinning down at the taller man from his vantage point. “That’s not all that riders are amazing at.” He said with a grin as he leaned down for a kiss.

Thorin pressed up into the kiss, hands drifting back up to that tantalizing rear as it was presented so nicely for his palms to cup. He hummed appreciatively and asked. “Oh yea? What else are riders amazing at?”

Bilbo grinned against his lips and simply said “riding of course” before capturing him for another searing kiss.


End file.
